


Scars

by orphan_account



Series: A Thousand Demons [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m sorry, Dean. I just…I want to be normal. So, so badly. And I’m sorry you don’t understand that. I know it’s not your fault, I know you never got the chance to know what it’s like. But I spent my whole life, wanting so badly to get out. To have that chance. And I finally got it, and it just disappeared…and I want it back.” Sam couldn’t bring himself to meet Dean’s eyes, and just sat down on the bed, turning his head away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

Sam was always very expressive with his hands when he was upset. He would fling his arms wide in exasperation, or tangle his fingers into his hair in frustration. At the moment, he was whipping around a scratchy motel towel, still damp from recent use. “Look, Dean, I get it. I know it’s strange to you. But to me, it’s _not_. I miss it, Dean. And I missed you too, but sometimes,” Sam took a deep, heavy breath as he let his arms fall to his sides. “Sometimes its too much.”

Dean felt his insides tear and rip themselves to shreds. He looked up at his brother with confused eyes, struggling to hold in the sting of tears. “Sam, where else are you gonna go? What else do you have?”

Sam felt the anger flare up inside him again. “Why does it matter, Dean? Can’t I just go looking for something? Do I have to want something specific?”

Dean had been sitting on the motel bed, watching Sam pace around the room in his gym shorts as he fumed. But now he stood up, and got right up in Sam’s face. “There is nothing out there, Sam. Don’t you get that? Look what happened. You left for Stanford, and now you’re right back where you started. It always. Comes. Back. To. This.”

“I only left that life in the first place because Jess died and you were giving me one hell of a guilt trip, Dean! ‘Come find Dad. Don’t you care about Dad? Dad’s still missing, Sam.’ Well guess what. Now Dad is dead too! We found him. My job is _done_.”

The sting behind Dean’s eyes became harder and harder to hold back. “So it doesn’t matter you’d be leaving your brother alone? All I had was Dad, Sammy. After you left? He was it. And like you said. Dad’s dead. You gonna leave me too?” 

Sam’s voice softened. “Dean, that’s not what I meant. It’s not forever, I just want a break…” Sam faltered, and let his words die in his throat. He knew that if he left, it was going to be forever. Sure, he’d meet up with Dean now and again, but it would never be like it was.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I just…I want to be normal. So, so badly. And I’m sorry you don’t understand that. I know it’s not your fault, I know you never got the chance to know what it’s like. But I spent my whole life, wanting so badly to get out. To have that chance. And I finally got it, and it just disappeared…and I want it back.” Sam couldn’t bring himself to meet Dean’s eyes, and just sat down on the bed, turning his head away.

He felt the mattress dip in as Dean sat down next to him, but refused to look in his direction until Dean touched his forearm lightly. Dean ran a calloused finger down his bicep, and lifted it back up as Sam turned to see what he had traced.

“Remember that? You fell off your bike, the really crappy one I stole from the house down the street? You got a face full of gravel.” 

Sam said nothing, but locked his hazel eyes on Dean’s fingers as the searched for another scar.

“There’s that one, you skinned your knee really badly one day Dad let me take you to the playground. You bitched for weeks about how much it hurt.” Dean traced over the pale white smudge on Sam’s kneecap. He trailed his fingers, ghost-like across Sam’s chest to his collarbone.

“I gave you that one. In a wrestling match. I can’t even remember what it was over.”

“You stole the toy at the bottom of the cereal box.” Sam whispered. Dean’s eyes shot up and met Sam’s. He lowered them slowly, back to Sam’s chest. 

His fingers traveled over the many, newer, pinker scars. Dean purposely avoided the ones Sam had acquired since he’d started hunting again. During his search for scars, Sam suddenly reached up and grabbed Dean’s hand, placing it on one along the side of his abdomen. “We were running away from the cops because you thought it would be funny to egg some guy’s house. I ran into a branch because it was dark.”

Dean chuckled slightly, and felt the world slow a bit as he felt Sam’s rib cage rise and fall with his breathing underneath their hands.

“I tried hard to let you be normal, Sam.” Dean said, looking right at Sam. “I tried so damn hard.”

Sam’s face contorted into one full of heartbreak. “Dean.” As Sam slipped his free hand’s fingers under the edge of Dean’s shirt, he twisted his other fingers so they were intertwined with Dean’s. “I’ll stay. It’s okay, Dean. I’ll stay.”

Dean pulled Sam in tight, burying his head in Sam’s shoulder. Dean’s shoulders rose and fell harshly, and Sam just wrapped his arms around his brother tighter. As Dean’s breathing slowed, he heard a faint muffled voice emit from the crook in Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you, Sam.”

_No, Dean. Thank you. Thank you for the scars._


End file.
